


Darkest Hours

by CannedTins



Category: Darkwing Duck (Cartoon 1991)
Genre: Gen, Hospitalization, Injury Recovery, Major Character Injury, Work In Progress, drakepad if you squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-04-04
Packaged: 2019-12-27 04:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannedTins/pseuds/CannedTins
Summary: Darkwing suffers near-fatal injuries after a battle with Negaduck and has to cope with potentially losing his superhero identity forever.In progress. Summary may change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Even the title is in=progress and might change later on. Anyway, enjoy. Big warning for blood, and hospital stuff.
> 
> (Thank you to Blue1Jay for looking over and helping edit the work!)

 

Darkwing Duck was confident, certainly confident that he was dying.

Maybe it was the way his vision blurred and spiked with stars, or the pain that was stabbing from the waist-up, but numbing at the waist-down. Or maybe it was the blood that was staining his coat and spilling over his bill.

  
His breaths came in ragged and laborious, as if it took great effort to get any oxygen into his damaged lungs. While he waited---either to die or to be found by his companions---he looked up at the series of holes in the ceilings (or was it floors?) that he had previously created by falling so many feet down, before crashing upon the cold and hard ground.

 

He tried to think of what happened earlier---Negaduck? It had to be---on a high-rise---Launchpad on one side, Gosalyn and Gizmoduck on the other---Negaduck right in front---Hero hanging by a hair on the ledge---That is all.

 

Didn’t he see this same scenario in a show somewhere?

 

Darkwing gasped for much-needed air, his literal lifeblood leaking around him. He never realized he had  _ this _ much blood. Even trying to breathe sent a shooting sensation up his spine; his ribcage felt crushed, as if a harsh pressure was weighing down on him.

 

How many bones had he broken?

 

Eventually the burden of his racing thoughts took a toll on his consciousness. He could feel himself fading away, that telltale tunnel of light forming in his vision, heart pumping slower and slower with every drop of blood lost. Soul, ebbing away.

 

“DW!”

 

Darkwing’s vision momentarily returned to focus at the familiar noise---so they  _ did _ find him after all. Took them long enough.

 

He could hear footsteps, shouting, he could only  _ barely _ see his companions rushing towards his side--along with Gosalyn.

 

Oh, God.

 

Darkwing wanted to tell her not to worry---not to cry---Launchpad is here---Morgana can be your mom now---but could only manage something halfway between a wheeze and gurgle, afterwards hacking up some more blood.

 

“Holy cheese, DW.”

 

____________________________________________

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Holy cheese, DW.”

Launchpad stood frozen, gazing upon the mangled remains that used to be Darkwing Duck.

Gizmoduck was holding Gosalyn and had instinctively covered her eyes so not to traumatize her. A smart move on the mechanical duck’s part---Gosalyn had seen some minor injuries in her time, but never anything so drastic. Launchpad on the other hand was far more experienced with the amount of damage that can be done to a body.

The only way the pilot could tell Darkwing was alive was through his horribly ragged breathing, which was more akin to gasping and sucking in air. Launchpad leaned next to him, removing any extra debris carefully to get a closer look at the fallen hero.

His limbs were twisted unnaturally, arms bent in painfully with his wrists balled up in fists, his eyes were already glossing over but seemed to respond to certain movements and sounds, his bill oddly angled, as if he had dislocated his jaw and the only sounds he could mutter were wheezing ones.

When Launchpad removed the duck’s fedora, he could see the damage done to his head as well; the blood that stained Darkwing’s fedora took on a sickening sense of familiarity, as if it resembled Negaduck’s.

Almost like the fates were mocking him.

“Oh, DW,” Launchpad took the mangled hero into his arms gingerly, positioning him so the head was placed on his broad chest. The stench and sight of blood usually made him nauseous, but he cared too much about Darkwing to focus on it.

Gizmoduck had already gotten the memo and sped off with Gosalyn in tow to the nearest public phone. God knows he was likely trying to explain everything to a frightened, confused, and angry duckling.

Darkwing continued to only make wheezing noises that grew more rapid by the second. It seemed to Launchpad that he was probably worried about Gosalyn. The pilot reassured him it would be okay, he would be getting help.

First, he wanted to make sure that Darkwing wouldn’t literally die in his arms.

If he was going to be in a hospital, Darkwing would need to be reverted to his civilian persona. A seemingly difficult job considering his current condition, but it could be done.

Lying him down on the ground again, Launchpad used the fedora as a prop-up for the duck’s head, and removed his mask. Around his eyes, dark purple bruises formed. Next would be the purple coat---the turtleneck could stay. Launchpad had to figure out how he’d get it off without increasing the pain or potentially killing Darkwing.

It took him a second to realize that since the coat was already deeply soaked with blood and given Darkwing poor prognosis, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to just tear off the cloth.

Launchpad could hear the sirens approaching as he unbuttoned the coat and started ripping it off at the seams---he’d have to hurry and hide the clothing somewhere. 

Maybe it would be better for everyone involved if Darkwing Duck had finally died, not Drake Mallard.

When he was finally done, Launchpad wiped the sweat off his brow, ignoring the blood that was on his hands. He held Darkwing---no---Drake Mallard in his arms with such tenderness that betrayed his imposing build.

“Gh...gkk...”, Drake wheezed out, blood continuing to flow from his mouth, “gh...sshk...”

“I know, Drake. It’ll be okay! Stay with me!”

Drake tried to move a hand towards Launchpad’s chest, but failed. He was struggling to form a single word.

“Ga...guh...sssh.”

Launchpad could feel Drake’s heartbeat, so slow and weak. He felt cold too, no doubt from the blood loss.

 

___________________________________________________________________

Darkwing Duck was dead.

Only Drake Mallard remained, crumpled up and maimed nearly beyond recognition, in nothing but a blood-soaked turtleneck. Being held by his faithful friend, Launchpad. 

His vision had deteriorated to the point of near-blindness, he could hardly see Launchpad looking down at him with tearful eyes.   
Drake seemed to be slipping further away into unconsciousness, his head beginning to roll back. He was so nauseous. The noise, the blood loss, the pain---it was all too much for him. His mind scrambled around, frenzied, trying to think of something besides Gosalyn. 

Was he beginning to forget what happened? 

Drake felt a jerk as Launchpad stood up and handed him over to the ambulance gurney. Before he finally slipped away into unconsciousness, he heard Gosalyn call for him.


	3. Chapter 3

Gosalyn shook with rage. She had been right at the rooftop when Negaduck pushed her father over, she had been scooped up by Gizmoduck, had her eyes covered at the scene despite her protests, and couldn't even see her possibly dying father now.

“Why can’t I see dad?! Why wasn’t I allowed to be near him?!”

Launchpad was harried by her protests, but he understood. At the same time he was too shaken to explain everything. Gizmoduck had left to Duckburg for the day, but he agreed to pay all the hospital bills when available. Others in the waiting room stared at them.

“You know I can handle blood. I can handle seeing injuries. I’m nine, not five!” Gosalyn pulled at Launchpad’s collar. The pilot simply looked at her with exhausted eyes. He just hoped that everything would turn out okay in the end.

Gosalyn seemed ready to explode just as a nurse walked into the room, announcing:

“Is there a Mr. McQuack here? The doctor would like to speak with you.”

Launchpad looked up, “Yes?”

“It’s about your partner. Drake Mallard.”

Gosalyn’s eyes widened, holding on tight to Launchpad’s beefy hand as the two followed the nurse into Drake’s room.

She knew the from the moment the door opened, that things didn’t look good. She had witnessed death many times before, but each time still seemed as fresh as a new wound to her. 

The doctor’s expression was completely neutral. Gosalyn understood that it was part of his job to not show feelings, but she hated that. Why couldn’t he show a little concern, a little pity? Surely he must have some pity. Doctors weren’t heartless robots, and she knew this.  
Hospitals made Gosalyn feel incredibly uneasy; she saw them as a place where people get prodded with needles, are given gross-tasting medicine, and more. She knew hospitals were supposed to help people, but why did they always have to have such an eerie atmosphere? She would have preferred a haunted house.

Her father was in the adjacent bed, bundled up in heated blankets and so many bandages that he looked like something out of a mummy movie (this, Gosalyn would have normally found hilarious, but couldn’t given how dire the situation was). There were many of the usual hospital machines around connecting to him and essentially giving him the life support he needed right now. Machines that she liked the colors and buttons of, but knew if she fiddled with them she would literally kill her father rather than make him mildly upset. 

In short, there was nothing remotely funny about the entire situation at this moment.

“Dad.”

As she moved closer to the bed she could see how broken he looked, even through the bandages. A large respirator mask was fitted over his bill, his breathing slow and ragged. It hurt Gosalyn to see her father look so weak and small in a hospital bed.

“He appears to have sustained rather severe injuries. Several of his organs have suffered permanent damage, although his brain and heart are, miraculously, only mildly injured....”

The doctor droned on about everything that was wrong with Drake, including things that only Honker would be able to explain to her. Whatever they were, none of it sounded promising.

“He’s not going to die, is he?”

“No,” the doctor said, “But he will need lots of care afterwards. He may never even recover fully.”


	4. Chapter 4

Negaduck looked over from the rooftop of an imposing building where he had pushed his do-gooder doppelgänger off. A sadistic smile was etched on his face, confident that he’d killed him and scared off his annoying sidekicks.

He’d thrown his head back to release a diabolical laugh when one of the Fearsome Four interjected meekly, “Are we really sure he’s dead?”

Another voice, deeper this time, boasted, “Doctors say that there is a 99.99% chance that he is dead!”

Yet another: “Ha-ha! That was fun, wasn’t it! It’s too bad he’s so breakable...”

Negaduck shot the four villains a venomous glare that had them frozen on their tracks.

After a painful minute the only remaining member who had not spoken, broke the silence, “I think we should check on his corpse. Just to make sure.”

Negaduck gritted his teeth in frustration, wondering why he even bothered with these clowns in the first place. 

He reluctantly groaned, “fine,” and leapt off the building with surprising grace. 

The Fearsome Five arrived at the scene where Negaduck guessed Darkwing must have landed (and hopefully died), the house reduced to half-rubble. The building had to be four or five stories high and had floors of hard wood and ceilings of plaster. It was definitely not a soft landing.

“I don’t see him. Or hear him,” Megavolt emitted a faint electrical glow.

Bushroot used his strong vines to clear away some of the rubble and make a path for them to move further in.

Megavolt thought about all the potential electronics that had been destroyed in the process. Bushroot continued to hold the vines back, looking for any clues. Liquidator was hyper-aware of the dripping water caused by broken pipes. Quackerjack agreed with Mr. Banana Brain that the entire area was a mess.

 

Negaduck left the four to their own free will and looked over to the side, a familiar object poking out from one of the broken plaster pieces. It looked like—-

“You knobs! Come over here!” Negaduck yelled, waving the object at the four, “I found his hat!”

As if on cue the Fearsome Four turned their heads in unison towards Negaduck, also inspecting the hat.

It was Darkwing trademark fedora, all right, but splattered in astonishing amounts of blood. 

They were all thinking it, Negaduck was also thinking it, and shot them a warning glare that if he said what he thought they would say, he would chainsaw them in half.

Unfortunately, Quackerjack had to blurt out, “It looks like yours! Ha-ha!”

Megavolt delivered a slap to the back of the clown’s head which didn’t seem to do much. Quackerjack did not look apologetic in the slightest.

“Allow the Liquidator to cleanse this hat of its filth—-“, the watery dog demonstrated so, and, “—-voila. Clean and pure, courtesy of Liquidator Brand Water.”

Negaduck did not look amused. He continued to give them that bitter glare. 

“I found his other clothes, too. His sidekicks must have come by before us,” Bushroot picks up another article of Darkwing’s clothing, “you still think we should declare him dead?”

“Yes.”

None of the four objected to Negaduck’s answer.

“Look at this, there’s blood everywhere, and his clothes are still here. Do you think he still has much blood left?Nah.”

Negaduck swooped the soaking-wet fedora from Liquidator’s paws, “And I’m keeping this as a trophy! I do think the Negaverse is in due time for a celebration.”

Bushroot tugged at an nonexistent collar, “Er, won’t the news not come well to Gosalyn?”

Negaduck grabbed the Plant-Duck by his scrawny neck and spat, “you mention that name again and your brains will be all over the walls.”

Bushroot nodded fearfully.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, here's the 5th chapter...It's a bit longer than the rest so I hope that's worth it.

In the hospital room, Launchpad and Gosalyn watched over Drake. He didn’t seem to be improving, his heart monitor was beeping too slowly for either of their comfort.

It was weird to Gosalyn just how many noises there were in the room, the beeping, whirring, dripping of the IV blood bag, even their own breathing. Launchpad had told her that Drake tried to say her name but couldn’t do it, now he wasn’t speaking at all.

“Don’t tell me he’s in a coma.”

Launchpad faltered, “N-no. He’s alive. Just...barely. But he’s hanging there.”

Gosalyn watched the heart monitor intently. If that stopped, if his heart flatlined---Gosalyn would have no idea what to do.

Launchpad just sighed. Both of them were incredibly worn out and worried. 

“It’s not fair,” Gosalyn suddenly cried, “I could have saved him. I could have kicked Negaduck’s butt! But Gizmo had to interfere!”

Launchpad was too tired to argue with her, so he just nodded, “At least he paid for the hospital bills. That’s the least he could do.”

Gosalyn didn’t feel like thanking Gizmoduck for that right now. She was upset that he didn’t let her stay with her dad, to tell him she was still here and all. But at least the mechanic duck did call emergency services and in a way saved Drake. He definitely would be dead had the ambulance not come in time.

Drake stirred a little in the bed, his heart monitor continuing to beep. He didn’t appear to be in pain, at least. He must have been on enough morphine to knock out an elephant at the moment. Gosalyn reached over the bed and held his hand. He made slight groaning noises under the respirator mask, his bruised eyes closed shut. It took a great deal of effort, but Drake managed to hold on to her little hand. She could feel tears welling up as she felt how cold his hand was, and seeing the ugly scarring and bruises that covered it. She promised herself she would shoot an arrow up Negaduck’s behind next time she saw him.

A nurse entered the room, holding a steno pad in her hand. She gestured to Launchpad, “Visiting hours are over. You may come again tomorrow if you wish.”

Launchpad looked to Gosalyn, who seemed like she wanted to stay longer with her father. Even the nurse seemed to understand how she felt, but they simply weren’t allowed in the hospital after visiting hours. Launchpad reached over to give Drake a gentle kiss on the head, and took Gosalyn with him on their way out.

Gosalyn looked back at Drake right before the nurse closed the door, letting herself cry as the two walked out to the parking lot. As Launchpad rode the Ratcatcher back home, she thought of how she could have prevented everything as Quiverwing Quack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Darkwing Duck’s vision was hazy. He found himself surrounded on all sides by a purple mist not unlike the sort he used for his dramatic entrances, stumbling across the ground---he didn’t appear injured at all, was he dreaming?---before getting up and walking towards the mist. 

He reached out a hand to the mist, which then turned red in a flash.

He could hear disembodied footsteps approaching from behind; there was nothing there when he turned to look, but he did hear footsteps and the scarily familiar noise of a chainsaw whirring. There was only one person Darkwing knew that had a chainsaw and was connected with red mist.

He couldn’t see Negaduck, but he could hear him. 

Getting closer.

The chainsaw getting louder.

The ground started to shake, and Darkwing felt a sharp pain across his chest, arms, head...

He too could hear Negaduck’s laughter, but he was nowhere to be seen.

And Darkwing screamed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Mr. Mallard!”

Drake snapped his eyes open, finding himself being restrained by a nurse. He found it painfully hard to breathe, cold sweat running down his brow.

“Please, don’t stress. You’ll be okay. It was just a nightmare.”

Drake looked around with just his eyes, surveying the hospital room he was stuck in. He was held down by so many machines and bandages, added with his injuries and painkillers, that he couldn’t move very well. He tried to stabilize his breathing for once, closing his eyes again as the nurse administered extra morphine.

Drake wanted to wake up, to ask the nurse questions---Why is he here? What happened? Where is his family?---but he felt too delirious from pain and fatigue that he could only lay back down and stare at the ceiling. He didn’t exactly feel like sleeping. He was wondering too much.

The machines beeped softly in the night, screens glowing as Drake was left to his own space in the room. He could only feel pain, though numbed down by the morphine. Slowly, he tried to lift a shaky hand towards his torso, looking for any of his wounds. He was met with a feeling of rough bumps and fabric where the bandages and stitches covered a majority of his body.

There was a flash of lightning, and Drake shuddered as he thought about that nightmare with the invisible Negaduck. He tried to think of positive things instead.

_______________________________________________________________

Quackerjack and Megavolt were loitering around the telephone poles just outside of the hospital. Megavolt was balancing himself at the pole lines, Quackerjack dangling from the wooden pole itself. 

The two had separated themselves from the rest of the Fearsome Five, with Negaduck going off alone and Bushroot and Liquidator making a retreat back to the greenhouse; that left the rat and the jester for themselves.

“We went to the Negaverse once, and he doesn’t want us in anymore?” Quackerjack complained, his eyes crossing as he viewed the world upside-down.

“I can’t even remember why. Actually, I don’t remember what happened today,” Megavolt walked across the line as if on a tightrope, sparks scattering with every foot step.

“Darkwing’s dead! Is that not a cause for celebration, Megs?” Quackerjack leaped back up onto the pole, “I just can’t think of why he doesn’t want us in! What a killjoy!”

“I don’t know, from what I can try to remember, the Negaverse doesn’t sound pleasant. I hear all the lights are dead!”

Quackerjack interjected, “Oh, it is gloomy, but there’s something about the chaos I like! So many new toys to play with.”

“No light, no life!”

“But my toys come to life!”

“I can’t argue with you there, Jacky,” Megavolt sighed, “Now that Darkwing is dead, I can finally liberate every light bulb and appliance out there without him having to interrupt!”

Quackerjack’s eyes brightened, “Oh, and I can bring out my toys! I really hope the kids will like them this time!”

“Exactly, Jacky. The other two can resume their plant-and-water needs, and Negaduck...can be Negaduck.”

The two villains retreated from the telephone pole and made their way across town, finally satisfied at the thought of wreaking further havoc upon St. Canard.


End file.
